22 February 2006

To Every Thing There Is a Season

I went home last week becasue my uncle was in the hospital and the doc said that we'd better go see him while we still could. Dad rang and told me about this and wanted me to go home on Saturday. Great timing, I just dismantled Irma, washed the components and kerosened the frame and if I didn't put them back and lubed them quick enough the chain was going to be strewn with rust. However, my main concern was the frame because at that time I still had no idea how on earth was I going to get the linseed oil and was afraid that by the time I came back it would be home sweet home of corrosions. Plues tomorrow a friend of mine was coming and I promised to let him stay in my place till he found a flat.

That was Tuesday. So I still had time to complete the procedure, but after much indecisions I rang and told my parents that I was going home tomorrow, the half rustproofed Irma can wait.

When I was walking on the corridor towards the room I was like feeling alright, nothing special, like just a normal trip to see a doc when I had a cold or somehow managed to shove my thumb into someone's mouth and broke my fingernail. I stepped in, recognizing the number on the door, and after passed through the first bed and the curtain connecting to the second one light entered this outer part of the room accompanied by the window.

They said he was looking particularly animated that day. His hands were dry and dotted with dark, sinister spots and so was his appearance. The tubes ran under his shirt and raised a mountain in his sunken chest producing irregular yet consistant minor earthquakes.

I went over to him and touched his bony hands and when I noticed the hurdle being formed inside my throat I knew that I had to turn my head to one side pretending that I was looking at the phone or the equipments. Luckily auntie and my folks were absorbed in their conversation about the healthy food they brought him. I went for a walk, the thing that lingered on my mind was his bright voice, the bright voice of a few years back now replaced by a thin whisper over the air.

She said to him, "don't you want to celebrate the diamond anniversary with me?" To which he replied indignantly and with visible difficulty, "when did I say I didn't?" Then I found myself smiling. Later I realized surprisingly that I didn't try to conceal that smile in front of my family, especially my old man, like I usually did.

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